Kill All Your Friends
by i AM the Random Idiot
Summary: we’re all a bunch of liars—tell me, baby, who do you want to be?: She was six years his senior, and he was wearing more nail polish than she had ever worn cumulatively in her life. There was something inherently wrong here. :crack!ItaAnko:


**Kill All Your Friends**

:we're all a bunch of liars—tell me, baby, who do you want to be?: She was six years his senior, and he was wearing more nail polish than she had ever worn cumulatively in her life. There was something inherently wrong here. :crack!ItaAnko:

(a/n) I am now the proud author of one of twelve fanfictions of this pairing. I _win_.

(disc) Inspired by MCR's song _Kill All Your Friends_. That song _is_ this pairing.

* * *

_Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore."_

--

Within a dark storage room, several things:

A young man, torn to pieces by the demons of his own making.

The face of an immortal.

Truth and lies and truth in lies, and a whispered exhortation:

"Remember. Remember Itachi."

--

_Half a world away, she remembers._

--

The chakra behind her was unmistakable, even though she hadn't felt it in about eight years. Since he'd been made _chūnin_, in fact.

"Well, well, if it isn't little Itachi-_kun_," Anko chuckled without turning around to face the missing-nin. She added with trademark irreverence, "I always knew he'd come for me one day."

"It's been a while, Anko-_sempai_," the man behind her agreed.

She had to suppress shivers at the sound of his voice—ridiculously deeper, so much that she could almost feel her ribs vibrate. So this was what had become of the adorably stoic ten-year-old that she'd teased and tormented and bought ramen for. He'd grown up into this silent demon of eighteen, sneaking up on old creaky-boned special _jōnin_ and making them feel absolutely decrepit at the age of twenty-four.

Oh yeah, and he'd killed his entire family, too. Mustn't forget that one.

"So, here to tell me my number's up? _Shinigami-sama_'s finally come for my soul? Lurid assassination attempt? Come on, excite me, Itachi-_kun_," she drawled, still not turning around. She'd be dodging even before a shuriken or kunai could leave his hand, and lazily displaying her back to any enemy was a pretty good way of insulting them by making them think she didn't take them seriously. Plus, she secretly didn't want to see him. She had a feeling it would make her feel even older. And more decrepit. And probably depressed. "We special Konoha _jōnin_ need some exercise now and again."

She heard a slight shift behind her. "Your wit is as cutting as ever, Anko-_sempai_," he said.

Anko sighed. "So what do you need?"

A pause, then. "Tell me where Uzumaki Naruto is," Itachi said, not a request, but a command. A softly spoken, barely inflected command, but a command nonetheless. Anko could feel her heart rate going up in preparation for battle—the fight or flight response, she knew, a deeply ingrained behavior of an animal before a predator.

"How should I know?" she shrugged with as much nonchalance as she could muster. "I just gave him his Chūnin Exam, that's all." She frowned. "Come to think of it, why would you even think to ask _me_?"

She heard him move closer behind her and tensed. Itachi said, in a voice several degrees colder than previously, "I don't think that matters. Tell me where he is."

"I don't know," Anko insisted. Her left hand went slowly up her left sleeve, feeling silently for the small shuriken she kept hidden in a special pocket. To cover this motion, she allowed her right hand to twitch towards the shuriken holster on her thigh. "Why not ask someone else?" she continued, trying to distract him. "You know, someone qualified. Like the Konoha Military Police Force. Oh, oops, my bad. Those were the men and women you slaughtered in their sleep."

"I'm getting impatient," he whispered _right behind her_—

Anko snatched a kunai in her right hand, to feel the knife-edge of his hand come down on her wrist, but she had whipped a shuriken down at their feet with the other hand, and the exploding tag it was attached to sent her tumbling forward with no little momentum (and maybe a burn on one ankle but nothing awful), and sent him dodging back gracefully to brace himself against her windowsill.

Anko had maybe a split second upon turning around to see him, and no time at all to stop and marvel at his height, his bearing, the strange design of his cloak, or the fact that he was wearing more nail polish than she had even worn cumulatively in her life, before she was flashing through hand signs and—

—right behind her _again_, and she only had enough time to bite her thumb and brush the ground, but no time to force the chakra down before he peppered her feet with shuriken, forcing her back the way he had been, and there was the window, _shit_—

—her eyes flicked upwards in a moment of unbalance, and met his purely by accident—

—(crimson like bloodstains pooling behind the black patterns tracing the eyes of generations) and she had time enough to think, _his eyelashes are longer than __mine__, dammit_—

—and then the shuriken dotting the floor fluttered upward as crows, flapping noisily around the room and buffeting her face with gusts of wind and feathers.

"_Shimatta_," Anko swore, thoroughly disgusted with herself.

"I have no intention of fighting you," Itachi said, disconcertingly at ease among the illusory carrion birds circling the both of them. "I just want to talk."

"You're cute when you're persistent," Anko said sweetly. She clapped her hands together, twisting her chakra as much as it would allow. "_Kai!_"

She struggled with his _genjutsu_ for a good two minutes, sweat trickling down her cheeks and from hr forehead into her eyes. Itachi simply watched, his expression as close to amusement as it would get. Anko growled. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" she said

Itachi shrugged. "You're cute when you're persistent, Anko-_sempai_." The fact that he could throw her own words in her face and barely even change expression to make it worth it only enhanced Anko's bad mood. "Again, I assure you, I only want to speak with you."

"Will you stop it with the 'Anko-_sempai'_ already?" she snapped. "I stopped being your senior when _you_ stopped being a Konoha ninja." Her eyes pointedly raked across the long scratch on his _hitai-ate_, halving the leaf symbol etched upon it. "Speaking of which, someone's going to be here in about five or so minutes, wondering about that exploding tag, and find an S-rank missing-nin occupied with keeping little old me busy with…crows." She batted one away from her face just to punctuate her statement. "_I'd_ be worried."

Itachi blinked, and Anko counted it as a victory. Even though his eyes were probably just dry. "I had heard about _Sandaime-sama_'s death," he said, and inclined his head. "My condolences."

"I'm sure you'd be heartbroken," Anko replied, "if you had a heart."

"His advisors. Danzo. They haven't called any unusual meetings, have they?" Itachi asked.

It was such a _non sequitur_ that Anko took a few seconds to even realize what he had said. "Umm, do you mean _before_ the treaty meetings with Sunagakure or _after_ the committee nomination of the next Hokage or _between_ the selections of the new _chūnin_?"

"They haven't contacted any of the _genin_?"

Anko felt like she had missed a crucial chunk of the conversation. "What in the world would that have to do with Uzumaki Naruto?" she demanded.

Itachi ignored her, muttering, "I need to find Danzo…"

Okay, being beaten in a fight and put in a _genjutsu_ was one thing, but this was just _insulting_. "What the hell do you need that stiff for? He's as old as dirt and probably half as clean. And you didn't answer my question."

"Well, considering I'm the one interrogating you…" Itachi said pointedly, and snakes melted up from the floor to entwine her ankles, just to show her. Anko rolled her eyes at the theatrics of it all.

"You're doing a terrible job of it, in fact," she pointed out. "I mean, come on, no fire? Endless katana-stabby? Thumbscrews? Melting faces? Worst fears? All you've managed to do so far is piss me off." Anko licked the blood off her throbbing thumb. She hadn't even had time to summon anything, and now her thumb was going to hurt all day. That _really_ sucked. Of course, getting murdered in her own office by an old somewhat-friend sucked too, but she didn't feel like focusing on that part.

"…I felt no need, that's all."

"Oh, you liar," Anko grinned. "You can't lie to me, though. I know you too well."

A small twitch at the corner of one lip—did she just see that? Did he almost smile? "_So ka?_" Is that so? "You think I should tell you the truth, then?"

"No," Anko said. "I don't think you can."

Itachi simply closed his eyes and inclined his head a little. "Why not?"

"The truth doesn't exist, that's why. It's no more real than these crows, or this conversation we're having right now. You might be able to see it, or touch it, but in reality, it's nothing more than a mirage."

"Interesting." Itachi nodded to her. "Anko-_san_," he said. The crows suddenly thickened, until there was nothing around Anko but blackness, and then she was back in her office and Itachi was gone.

She didn't notice until much later that there were fresh flowers on Hayate's and the Sandaime's graves, many petals of which could be found around her window.

--

_The child stared with evident confused horror at the dripping kunai she held, at the tourniquet stained with dark poison-laced blood, at their teammate's expression, twisted in pain, and at her face, glistening with sweat and smeared with dirt and blood. "Why…" he whispered, "why did you…?"_

_She sighed, shaking her head. "Kid, sometimes… Sometimes you have to hurt people to save them."_

--

Hot sick burning waves of pain seared up and down her neck and face and ribs. She could only scream as the curse sunk deeper into her flesh, twisting and scorching her cells and chakra. Dimly, through the haze of agony, she thought she perceived a sort of cruel malice in it, as if the curse seal itself were a live thing that knew and enjoyed her suffering.

Right there, she grimly promised herself, _This thing will never take me alive._

--

_They sat side by side._

"_I'm sorry you didn't make it, Anko-_sempai_," he said._

_She shrugged. "Well, neither of us made it last year, on the same team. Maybe I just needed to get you out of my hair." She ruffled his hair to let him know it was one of her backhanded compliments. "I know I rank lower than you now, but seeing as how I'm still a billion years older than you, I'm proud of you."_

"_Everyone's proud of me," he said quietly, with an abrupt sort of bitterness. "Everyone's always been proud of me. For no real reason."_

_She rubbed harder on his head and gave him a whack for good measure. "I'm proud you didn't get killed. I'm proud you kicked that Waterfall guy's ass. I'm proud you didn't faint at the sight of blood. I'm proud you're still girlier than me. How about that?"_

_He smiled slightly, a rare and rewarding sight for her. "Good enough, I guess, Anko-_sempai_. Or…are you my _sempai_ anymore? Now that I'm _chūnin_?" A slight note of teasing had entered his normally colorless voice._

"_Give it up, Itachi-_kun_. I'll always be your sempai, even when you're Hokage and I'm the toilet-cleaner-lady," she said, moving to whack him again. This time, he dodged._

"_So…" he said, "does this make us…__friends__…Anko-_sempai_?"_

_She froze. He noticed. "I…I mean…it's nothing. I'm sorry. Forget it."_

_He looked away, and she immediately felt guilty. She grabbed his elbow. "Listen."_

"_It's okay," he said, turning and giving her a very convincing smile._

"_Don't lie. I hate that. You can't lie to me," she said, attempting a quick smile in return. "I'm practically the queen of lying."_

_She sighed. "Just listen, because I'm only going to say this once, Itachi-_kun_. _Shinobi_ are tools. I know you've heard this. _Shinobi_ are tools, and as such, we can be called on at any time, to do anything. To spy. To sabotage. To kill. I learned this lesson at…hell, around your age—a _shinobi_ must not make friends. Better called upon to kill a country full of strangers than to kill a single friend."_

_Itachi glanced at her through the hair hanging in his face. "So you're saying I should not consider you a friend, Anko-_sempai_?"_

_She hesitated, the answer caught somewhere between her heart and her throat. "No," she said softy. "You shouldn't."_

_He gave her a final, searching look with those impenetrable black eyes of his, and nodded. "I'll try…Anko-_sempai_."_

_She had said it for his own good, after all. She could not understand why it felt like a betrayal._

--

It was late at night. It could be a dream. She vaguely remembered something like waking up at a noise, perhaps a scuffle, but not much else. Or it could be a _genjutsu_, cast by some really sadistic bastard who really knew what freaked her out.

It was just really scary waking up in the middle of the night to see Uchiha Itachi sitting by your bed, that's all.

She was so convinced it was a bad dream that she didn't even bother to react. She blurted out the first thing she could think to say—"Naruto's not here."

"No," Itachi agreed, speaking so softly it was a wonder she could hear. It was a new moon that night—the stars outside just barely illuminated the lines of his body. The small, softly glowing red disks of his Sharingan were the only other indication of his position.

"Sasuke's gone, too." She could have imagined his small flinch at her words.

"…I know."

"So why are you here? I hope it's not to kill me," she yawned.

Itachi shook his head; she could hear his hair swishing in the dark. "Why do you always assume I'm here to kill you? I just want to talk."

"Like hell," Anko said.

He was suddenly on top of her, his hands pinning her arms down and one knee in her gut and his hair brushing her face—they were nearly nose-to-nose. She was suddenly wide awake, every neuron in her brain screaming, _Oh shit, Anko, this is not a dream this is not a dream—_

"'Like hell,' Anko?" he bit out, and she could only think, _My God, I've pushed him over the edge._ "Why? Why does it _always_ come down to violence? Did it ever occur to _anyone_ that violence could ever be avoided, wars averted, _lives saved_, by the simple act of sitting down and _talking_? Do you know how many times I've said this? Do you know how many times it's turned out the same?" His eyes burned with a strange, feverish light, somewhere between sickness and madness. His hands, where they held her forearms, trembled and shook. The strangest thought occurred to Anko—he looked like he was dying, somehow, dying slowly and with full consciousness of the fact.

"Itachi," she said. "I can't breathe."

He looked down, and stood up, removing the knee from her solar plexus. "_Sumimasen_." My deepest apologies.

"You know, I'm still convinced this is a dream, Itachi-_kun_," she warned him, trying to push the events of the last thirty seconds out of her mind—his breath on her cheek and the haunted look she had glimpsed in the depths of his eyes. "This is too weird for reality."

"People live their lives bound by what they accept as correct and true," he said, as though reciting something from memory. "That is their reality."

Silence, in the dark. "…I told you that once," she whispered, some unnamable emotion crawling up her throat, constricting it.

Itachi nodded. "I never forgot," he said. "So tell me…" He leaned in, close, too close. "Is this real?" he whispered, his breath wafting against her lips, his hair tickling her eyelashes, so close she could feel his body heat—

And kissed her.

A moment of unreal washed over her, so acute she could feel it from her toes to the top of her head. This wasn't happening. Uchiha Itachi was not here. He was not kissing her. She was not kissing back.

And she was not wishing for it never to end.

It stopped suddenly. He was across the room, by the window, his back to her as hers had been to him that one time.

"It wasn't real, was it?" she asked softly, knowing the answer and fearing it.

"…No." He turned his head to look back at her. "It was the truth."

--

Mitarashi Anko.

She was the only one he'd never lied to.

**.owari.**


End file.
